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A man divided: Sex, love, & arrogance
Am I capable of loving beyond the physical?
“sex is the consolation you have when you can’t have love”
― Gabriel García Márquez
I have thought far longer on what love should be…than what it actually is. I get caught up in the rapture of physical pleasure, and to imagine anything greater than this sweet release, this which stirs voluntary captivity, with staggering integrity is deliciously compelling. And truthfully, exhiliratingly maddening. It’s like someone biting your lip during a kiss.
But lately, I’ve come into contact with myself — the real me — and sometimes we are so out of touch it shocks me, that I must make the acquaintance of my better half while appearing, all at once, forlorn and confused and happier than I actually am. To sell the forgery that is me was not all that difficult, I’d convinced myself long ago that real is not what matters in this world. What people desire are ideas, which can be more real than anything else, which is also why I sold and bought, unto myself, the idea that there is no need for the real me.
In light of this truth, I often wonder what it means for the future me…
Will I die alone, but satisfy every of inch of my prolonged obsession with bodily satisfaction? Will I never come to know myself fully, and thus…
